I might be getting exactly what I want, so why do I hesitate. A lump fills my throat as I try to make the words form. Id been brave, I’d recognised what I deserve and made a stand. It’s not what I ever would have guessed could have happened, but it would seem that distance equals clarity. She doesn’t want to lose me, she does want to put the effort in. The word change dropped from conversation, I’m not being accused of trying to change her anymore. She’s fighting for me, she knows all my ugly bits and she’s fighting for me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted from love. But this lump is still there, it reminds me of all the people who have supported me during this week that’s felt like a month, the people who were glad I had made the hard choice, the people who noted that someone cannot change their actions when they don’t see there is any issue with them. 

I never wanted a conventional love, I’m not a conventional girl. I see the relationships of my loved ones, and they are great, but they are missing something to me, not for them, but something that I need. 

So now we will date, and have fun and have sex. We will try to move forward. 

  

The break

After having someone close die, a broken heart is the worst pain my body has been through. It wakes me up at 5am, I can’t eat and sometimes I can’t breath. There is no mental release and my muscles ache as much as my chest does. The foreign idea that this will get better is all that keeps me going. 

Not only am I mourning the loss of my best friend and home, I am also acutely aware that she is going through a similar pain and somehow that makes it all ten times worse. I do not feel happy or hopeful, this doesn’t feel right, how could anything this painful be done with conviction. 

I’m trying to comfort myself thinking of the resetting of bones, the pain that has to be experienced and even after that, the restrictive cast and the unreachable itch. I think I’m suffering some aftershock from the reset and I’m waiting to have my cast, some much needed support and structure even if im sure that too will come with its own struggles.

  

Mind over matter

The mind is a wonderful thing. I woke this morning from what felt like a whole 8 hours of dreaming various scenarios where Abby and I made everything better, we were back in love and back together. I woke up to what felt like an angry ocean in my stomach and a block of led in my chest; I couldn’t breath and it fucking hurt. I’m still trying to breath through it as I write. Where are my tools, my life tools that help me through this. Is it healthy? Should I just sit with the pain or is it only a pain for the girl in my dreams, a fantasy that my heart is now mourning for, since she never fully appeared. I read a psychological paper which explained that the painful rehashes, scenario replaying and belief that what we had was irreplaceable, is my brain trying to protect me from this hurt, trying to make sure I never do this again. My brain senses that I am in so much turmoil that it doesn’t want me to ever love again. This almost makes me laugh, I don’t know why. I want to run back to her, I want to tell her we’ve made an awful mistake, but I still want all the things from her that she was never willing to give. So I sit here, and I write, and as the pain dies down I start to notice the scene of my freshly made coffee and the beauty of the raindrops decorating my window.
 
 

Bittersweet

She got in touch. She’s got some of my stuff. I’ve got my stuff. It felt very final. Then she texts me, she says she feels sad, she apologises and my brain goes nooooo let me be angry at you. It’s frustrating when you love someone and you pump so much effort into them and they don’t see things the same way. Why couldn’t you just say something nice out loud? Why couldn’t you just try with my family? Why did you always have to take the piss whenever I tried anything new? I stopped dancing, I stopped growing. And now she cares, now she’s sad. It’s frustrating trying to accept that she just isn’t going to see things my way. But i guess it’s nice, if things are nice instead of angry.
I still can’t eat, coffee seems to give me a 30 minute buzz of happiness per mug. I’m still hiding away at my parents like the world can’t get me if I’m here.

  
  

Square One

We broke up yesterday, I moved out all my things. They are sat in my parents spare bedroom looking out of place. My snake is in the conservatory, royally pissed off about being moved and in a parallel universe where things aren’t so damn hard, we are currently on the holiday we booked and paid for in Norfolk walking along the beach and deciding where we should go for lunch. But I’m staring at the running trainers I simply had to buy yesterday and she’s pissed off in the place I used to call home with no intention of speaking to me again. I really miss the cat.